


Without Fear 1

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: Without Fear series by Scala [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, Romance, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard after the press conference - much harder than either Jim or Blair could have imagined. But when love is added to the mix, it becomes a whole 'nother story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Fear 1

## Without Fear 1

by Scala

This has probably been said before - but posession is nine/tenths of the law, and right now, they're mine, mine, mine!

Huge, enormous, devoted hugs to Kaye, who put down her own amazing work to read this for me. As always, your aim is perfect. Also a big fat thank you to Jode and Beanie for being so nice to me when I complained that I couldn't finish this story. Love you guys.  
Enormous hugs also to everyone who's sent me feedback for my previous stories. Your encouragement is incredible and has only helped me get this story finished.

This is the third and final story in my Post TSbyBS suite. The Suite is a collection of three completely unrelated stories, each encompassing a completely different way of dealing with the issues involed in the ep. This is by far the longest of the three stories. And man, am I glad it's done at last.  
For those interested, the Suite consists of "Public Fraud", "Map of the Sentinel Heart" - and this.  
Of course, I keep thinking I should apologize for the angst-fest that follows - but really, could these guys ever get together without a little angst? But just have those blood pressure tablets ready, okay? And maybe a box of kleenex.and perhaps a pillow you can punch as required.  
This is Part 1. The story is virtually complete and will be posted in parts as I polish them off. Part 2 will be posted in the next couple of days.  
As always, feedback is made very welcome in this home.

* * *

'How're you doin'?' Blair shouldered the loft door open to give Jim room to get inside. The other man was still a little unsteady on his feet even with the walking cane. 'You okay?' 

'Fine. I'm fine, Sandburg. How many times do I have to say that?' 

'Just checking,' Blair waited until Jim was clear then closed and locked the door. Deliberately turning away so he couldn't be accused of staring, he put the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and without pausing, commenced unpacking. It was a mindless job but he applied every ounce of dedication he had to it. After all, he didn't really have anything else to do, did he? 

As he closed the fridge for the last time, he turned to the counter where he'd left the makings of dinner. Only then did he risk a glance up to find Jim pacing up and down behind the couch, limping on the bad leg. The doctors had said the gunshot wound wasn't serious, a flesh injury tearing at the muscle above the knee that would take only a few weeks to heal. But an injured Jim Ellison was one without work - making him something of a bear at the best of times. 

And this was far from that. 

As Jim's pacing turned him back towards the kitchen, Blair quickly ducked his head and began chopping vegetables. Another stir-fry. Another one. 

He didn't feel like talking. 

He didn't feel like anything actually - and that was the weird thing. Like he should be feeling something. And he had. Until today. Over the last few weeks, ever since Naomi's misguided aid had turned his world upside down, he'd felt plenty. Panic, anger, remorse, fury, sorrow and finally, some shred of satisfaction as Zoeller had fallen and fallen - and horror at his satisfaction. Relief too, that Simon and Megan had survived that single, shared shot. That Jim's wound had been so light. 

Yeah, he'd been feeling a lot of things lately. But right now he felt nothing. Hadn't been for the last couple of hours. Not since he'd walked out of the station with Jim, the warm imprint of that leather in his hand, the memory flash of the gold badge echoing in the reflective glass of passing store windows. 

Detective Blair Sandburg. 

Not Doctor. Detective. 

'Ow!' He grabbed his finger quickly before blood could flow over the vegetables and turned for the sink. 'Dammit.' 

'Chief?' Jim hurried over to him, reaching over his shoulder to turn the tap on. 'What did you do?' 

'Nothing. I just nicked myself with the knife. It's okay, really. You sit.' 

'Give me a look.' 

Blair tried to keep his hands clear of the other man but they were caught firmly. The pain was starting to catch up with him now, his injured finger starting to throb. As he eased his hand away, revealing the cut, bright red blood poured out, gushing down his hand. 'Shit!' 

'Keep the pressure on there, Chief.' Jim quickly turned and grabbed some paper towels. 'Hold that down on it and press real hard, okay?' 

'Yeah, okay, okay.' Blair's skin almost vibrated with the need to move away, to leave it, to ensure Jim returned to his pacing - but even snapping was beyond him at the moment. At least the pain in his hand proved _his_ senses hadn't shut down for the duration. 

'You might need stitches in that, Chief. I'll call Rafe. He can takes us over to the hospital.' 

'Hospital?' Blair's voice rose and he could do nothing to stop it. 'No way, man! It's just a cut. It'll be fine. I bet it's almost stopped bleeding.' The pain was intense now, making him wince and he knew Jim had seen it - but he didn't look up, didn't try to make eye contact, didn't want to make _any_ kind of contact. 

'Look, I'm calling Rafe. I can't drive, you can't drive. It's either that or we take a cab. Your choice.' 

'Dammit, Jim, it's okay!' Blair hissed and pulled away. Gingerly, he lifted off the towel and saw only a small amount of blood leak out of the cut. He almost shoved it in Jim's face. 'See? It's fine. It's stopped. No need to panic. I'll just bind it up.' 

'I'll get the first aid kit.' 

'Yeah, you do that.' 

'Just keep the damn pressure on, Sandburg.' 

Blair rolled his eyes as Jim left him, limping, ignoring his own pain. It might as well have been the middle of winter with the coldness in the air. Not that Jim would ever acknowledge it, of course. No way. He only did that when it suited him, when he had a grievance, when he had something _he_ needed to get out into the open. 

He'd fixed it and that was all there was to it. 

A simple fix. Easy, and - let's face it - obvious. Make Sandburg a cop. See? Simple. Keep him there, to look after the senses and everything. Sure, he needs to get paid now that his career is down the toilet, so just make him a cop. Give him a gun, tell him to shelve all his principles and once he's gone through therapy for his third killing, he'd be just fine. Just like all the other cops. 

Yeah. Very fucking easy. 

So, okay, he was feeling something now apart from the pain in his hand. So ... good, right? Good? Feeling anything was good, wasn't it? A positive sign that there would be some healing somewhere in there? 

Fuck it. 

Jim returned with the first aid kit and dumped it on the counter. He rummaged inside for the right things and reached for Blair's hand. He kept his head down as he worked, washing the wound out, drying it, applying gauze and bandage as though this were a life-threatening injury. 

Blair watched the back of his head, his hands. Watched the sentinel senses at work as he had done for the last three years. 

It would be up to him. Again. There was no way Jim was going to make the first move. He'd noticed Blair's silence after the big presentation that afternoon. He'd watched Blair move around the market with something like a frown on his face - but would he ask? 

Never. Because somewhere in there, he might be expected to explain himself. 

Permanent _official_ partner. 

Back in the beginning, right back when it had started, Jim had insisted that Blair never refer to himself as Jim's partner. For so long it had been 'associate' and 'friend' or just plain 'Sandburg'. But then it had started to creep in, in general introductions. 

' ... and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg...' 

Blair had nearly fallen over from shock the first time he'd heard it. He'd never said anything, of course, largely because if he had, he was quite sure Jim would never have said it again and Blair liked it. A lot. 

Because it was true. 

They were partners. Equal but not the same. Each contributing different skills towards the whole. Each enhanced by the other's contribution. 

Not the same, but equal. 

Yeah. Right. 

Jim was so close. Too close and not close enough. Raw pain drifted through Blair, unfettered by anger and bitterness. Too close but never close enough. Never. 

'Are you going to tell me what's bugging you?' Blair said quietly as Jim wound the bandage around his hand. 

'Nothing's bugging me.' 

Blair only just suppressed a sigh. 'So why the pacing?' 

'I wasn't pacing. I was exercising.' 

'You don't think I know the difference? Man, you are so predictable.' 

Jim said nothing for a moment. He just finished with the bandage, packed the first aid kit away and returned it to the bathroom. He emerged moments later to grab two beers from the fridge, placing one on the counter in front of Blair. He leaned back on the fridge then, took a mouthful and folded his arms across his chest. Not looking at anything in particular, he said, levelly, 'You got something to say, Chief, spit it out.' 

'Me? Why is it up to me? You were the one wearing a groove in the floor boards.' 

'Wondering what's been up with you since we left the station.' 

In answer, Blair turned back to dinner, tried to hold a carrot without getting the bandage dirty and picked up the knife again. 'Nothing's up with me.' Standard Ellison response. Try a little of his own medicine back at him and see what happens. 

Wasn't like he could say anything, was it? 

'You don't want to be a cop.' Jim picked this out of the air like it was a winning lottery ticket. 

'I didn't say that, Jim. Did I say that?' 

'No.' 

'So.' 

'So.' 

Blair chopped for a minute but the energy drained out of him and he placed the knife down carefully, resting his weight on his hands. 'Jim, I said I'd go to the Academy, didn't I?' 

'No. You didn't.' 

'Well, I will, so what's the problem?' 

A long silence drew out with that, a silence during which Blair could almost hear time passing. Then Jim shifted, came closer, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. Blair's flesh stung with the proximity, yearning and loathing tossing around inside him, warring for space. 

'What do you want from me, Chief? An apology?' 

Walls flew up inside Blair then, adrenalin flooding his system in a classic fight or flight response. He straightened up, unable to stop himself warding off the attack with readable body language. He took a step away, took up the knife again and began chopping with an urgency he could barely understand let alone articulate. 

'Dammit, Chief!' Jim hissed. 'What do you want me to say? I'm sorry it happened, okay? I'm sorry you had to throw everything away just to save my neck. I'm sorry the only thing I can offer you is a job as a cop. I ... I thought you'd want it.' 

Blair scooped up the chopped vegetables and threw them into the wok. He turned the gas on and stepped around Jim to get to the fridge. 'I do. I'll be a cop, Jim. You don't have to worry, I won't be walking out on you.' 

'I wasn't worried about that.' 

'No? Well, that's good because I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't just leave you hanging, okay?' 

'I know that.' 

'Good. So everything's settled, right? I'll go to the Academy and I'll become a cop. Did I say I didn't want to?' 

'No.' 

'So what's the problem?' 

'Chief,' Jim reached out and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn. 'Look at me.' 

If Blair'd had any energy left to fight, he would have twisted out of Jim's grip - but things like fighting were beyond him now, so he stopped, ordered his neck muscles to lift his head, ordered his eyes to look at Jim. 

Pale blue eyes gazed back at him, open concern displayed in them - not anger. 

Without bidding, Blair's throat constricted. He swallowed hard. 

Yeah, he was feeling something now. Feeling too much. 

He hadn't known what to say that day in the hospital. Best partner Jim could have had. Best friend. Best damned detective Jim had seen. Best ... best ... But Jim hadn't said ... 

No, Blair hadn't known to say anything more than a feeble, thanks. Too little, much, much too late. But then he'd been in shock that day. Less than an hour after the press conference, the hole he'd just dug himself had still retained a little daylight. It had only been later, as the darkness drew in - as he'd walked out of the station today - that the reality had really begun to sink in. 

Permanent _official_ partner. 

That's what Jim wanted. 

Now. 

Even though only a week ago, when everything had been splashed across the news, Jim had wanted something entirely different. He'd wanted Blair gone. Out of his life - and most certainly, absolutely out of his job. 

Wanted to go back to the way things were before. Before Sandburg. 

'Chief,' Jim began softly, 'talk to me.' 

'Why?' Blair replied without thinking. 

'Well,' Jim frowned a little, 'you're always telling me it helps to talk.' 

Blair's gaze froze as the urge to cry drained away. No. He wasn't going to talk about this because he couldn't. The words would come but the meaning would be all screwed and then he really would lose everything, wouldn't he. Because there was no way he could ever talk about how he felt without it all sounding like one accusation after another. Charges Jim hadn't answered at the time and never would now. 

An apology? Like what the fuck was that for? 

He drew in a deep breath, eased the tension from some parts of his body by an act of will alone and let his voice go out, even and untainted by bitterness. 'Jim, you know as well as I do, I never intended to become a cop, right?' 

'I know.' 

'All my life I've wanted to be an anthropologist. That's what I worked for, right?' 

'Yes.' 

'So, I've had maybe three hours to get used to the idea of being a cop. Don't I get a few days to process? I mean,' Blair ran a hand through his hair to buy time, 'it's not like it's a small step, you know?' 

Jim's gaze searched his, silently, almost harshly. Blair could almost see the thought processes winding through each other, almost see the doubt there, wondering if this was really the truth or just a convenient string of words to deflect the pain. Blair watched, knowing all the while what the result would be. 

'Okay, Chief,' Jim let him go and stepped back. 'I just don't want to force you into it or anything.' 

Force? Like they had a choice? It was either that or Jim lost his Guide. Fuck, why couldn't he just say that? Why go through these stupid motions like it mattered one way or the other. 

'I just need some time, okay, Jim?' Blair murmured, knowing all the answers, all the questions and all of the pauses in between. Jim Ellison was perhaps the most predictable man on earth. 

'Okay. But if you need to talk ...' 

Blair turned back to his cooking, shutting his mind down for the night. After all, that's what had got him into all this trouble in the first place, wasn't it? 

* * *

The air was cooler out on the balcony. Cool and smooth, like silk on glass, sliding across his skin, soothing away the burning heat of anger and rejection, of silence and denial. 

He'd been putting it off for so long, he'd almost forgotten he'd still had to make some decision about his dissertation. He'd had all the data, framed up all the chapters for months and months and still, never approached that one, last important question - how to keep Jim's identity safe. 

With a sigh, Blair put his arms on the brick wall and leaned forward, breathing in the night air, the night quiet. Somewhere nearby, a cat was mewling, expecting to be fed. Blair knew how it felt. 

So he'd completed the first draft because he'd just wanted to get the whole thing down from start to finish. A first draft so he could finally see the thesis as an entity, so he could see just what it was he was producing here. And then, when it was done, when he'd let it rest for a month or so, he was going to go through and change everything he'd needed to change to keep Jim out of it. And then, to make sure, he'd planned to change his own name, giving the examining board a document to sign, swearing them to secrecy. 

That had been the plan. At least, that's what he'd thought the plan had been, now, looking back. 

But the truth was, he'd never really made a plan. Not enough of a one to counter Jim's anger at least. Not enough of a one to make any difference. And all he'd been able to say was something about needing to track Jim's development in a scientific manner. 

He'd deserved that anger. He'd earned it. He'd been a fool and he'd paid the price. All or nothing. 

No brass ring here, though, waiting for him when he got back. Just a few words of praise, a cold friendship - and the promise of a job that scared the shit out of him. 

And the one thing he really wanted, more than his dissertation or his old life or anything else, was the one thing he could never have. 

And damnit, he couldn't even stay angry at Jim for very long - because Jim was right. He was totally right. Blair had been wrong. He'd made the mistake. It wasn't Jim's fault he had these abilities. Wasn't Jim's fault that the man he trusted so much without really trusting at all had fallen in love with him. 

Jim hadn't asked for this - but Blair had. He'd argued and promised and just got in Jim's face enough to get what he wanted. A subject to study, being out there on the firing line, a place in the man's life that nobody else would ever be able to take from him - all without ever looking forward enough to see what might happen. 

So yeah, Blair deserved the anger. Only Jim wasn't angry any more. Jim was just silent, as though he knew there were things he should be saying but couldn't. Jim was wary and distant. Jim was calm and concerned. Jim was doing what Jim did and nothing more. Jim was going about his day pretending that a week ago he hadn't believed Blair would take the money and run, as though he really did believe that Blair would stick by him now matter what. 

Blair took in another breath and let it out, blowing it through his lips. It was amazing really, how he'd been able to be philosophical about it in the beginning. Had been able to say to Joel's face that he was a fraud. Calm had appeared so real then. Now, three days later, calm seemed like a foreign language. Something was missing. Something he couldn't put his finger on, but without it, he couldn't begin to return to being philosophical. 

A yawn caught up with him and he shook his head. Time to get some rest. Time to lie in bed and pretend to be sleeping. 

Time to go on with his life and pretend he gave a damn. 

* * *

The envelope landed on Jim's desk with a faint smack. He glanced up to find Simon standing over him, half a smile on his face. 

'What's this?' 

'Schedules for the next intake at the Academy. All the forms are in there. Can you pass it onto him?' 

Jim snapped his gaze back to the manila envelope. Flat and brown, it gave out no indication of the level of injury it would cause. He lifted it carefully and set it to one side. 'Sure.' 

'What's up?' Simon grunted. 'Sandburg changed his mind?' 

'No, no nothing like that.' 

'Then what?' 

What indeed? Blair hadn't really talked about it at all over the last month. Not even when Jim returned to full duty had Sandburg so much as broached the subject. 

These days just thinking about his friend made his stomach tighten. 

'How is he?' Simon's voice cut into his thoughts. Finally back at work after his long absence, the captain gave Jim a level gaze, his voice hiding concern with his usual gruffness. 'I hear he hasn't been in since you handed him that damned badge.' 

'Well, he doesn't have clearance any more, does he?' Jim didn't say this with any inflection, but Simon chose to misunderstand. 

'Jim, you know I can't authorize his ride-along status any longer. I thought we were clear on that. The Chief would have my head if I tried that.' 

Jim could have said the same thing - but didn't. 'He knows that. I think he just figures he's best out of it, you know?' With a sigh, Jim got to his feet, glancing around the half-empty bullpen. Megan was also back on duty, but out with Rafe and H on a call. It was getting late and it was time he went home. 

'He's worried everyone thinks he's a fraud?' 

With a glance up at Simon, Jim shrugged into his jacket. 'He told them he was. There's nothing you or I can do to change that.' 

'But we know he isn't a fraud. You haven't ... heard anything have you? Anybody saying anything?' 

Jim raised his eyebrows, 'Sure I have. But really, you don't want to know the things some people have said about Sandburg. I learned a long time ago to tune them out.' 

'So that's why you're not on murder charges,' Simon attempted the weak joke and Jim gave him something close to a smile for the effort alone. 

'Don't worry about it, Captain. Blair will adjust. He's young, bright - he'll do fine. It just might take some time, that's all. I'll see you tomorrow.' 

'Right. Don't forget you're working with Brown for the next couple of weeks while Rafe is off on leave.' Simon turned to go back to his office, then paused. 'And Jim?' 

'Yeah?' 

'Don't forget to take those papers to him.' 

'Oh, right. Sure.' 

As Simon disappeared into his office, Jim picked up the envelope once more. He let his fingers ease along the smooth surface, feeling the warmth and texture as he'd been taught. 

It was just an envelope. Just papers. 

So why did it feel like a death warrant? 

* * *

Light rain began to fall onto the skylight moments after Jim got into bed. He liked the sounds, soft and familiar, the scents, things he could identify easily. Soothing, really, that sound. Like the one who lived below. Soothing and real. 

How was it that Sandburg could have had that effect on him? Even back in the beginning when, on the surface, Sandburg had appeared to be this flaky, hyperactive motor mouth with an overwhelmingly high opinion of his own knowledge and abilities - along with his necessary place in Jim's life. That image had certainly been enough to put Jim off initially. Sandburg seemed to drive just about everybody else up the wall, but after that first meeting - and indeed even in that pokey office at Rainier, Sandburg's presence had always soothed Jim. His presence, his voice. The sight of him at the end of a hard day. 

Jim had been a soldier. He'd been a cop for eight years. He knew how to follow orders - and, for that matter, when to ignore them. Was even used to giving out his own. But he never, ever let anybody push him around. Except Sandburg. 

God, when Incacha died, Sandburg was... 

Well ... pushy. No other word for it. Yelling back at him, physically pushing him around, insisting on being heard and then, damnit if he wasn't right and everything but ... 

So, he didn't mind being pushed around by Sandburg. Didn't mind being around Sandburg only ... 

Only these days, Blair didn't want to be around him. 

If it had only been a few days, Jim wouldn't have been likely to notice it. But it was now going on six weeks. When he _did_ see Blair, they spoke, behaved almost normally - but there was little humor in those serious blue eyes these days. Little tolerance of any opinion Jim might voice. 

Blair was in trouble and Jim didn't have the first idea what to do about it. 

Problem was, he needed to do something. That was his job, as a friend. To help, to provide ideas, solutions, an ear. The kind of stuff they'd been providing for each other for the last three years. But these days, none of it seemed to work. 

And every day it only made Jim feel worse. He _should_ be able to help, shouldn't he? He was Blair's friend, he knew Sandburg better than anyone else - and after everything his friend had done for him, everything he'd given up, surely there was something he could do, some words he could say to make it better. 

Wasn't there? 

Guilt sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach. 

He _should_ say something. There _were_ words he could use, things he should be saying, but it was pretty much too late for them to make any difference. And that was always assuming he could actually bring himself to do it, actually push beyond his own limitations and admit that he'd been wrong. 

And there was some powerful part of him that just wanted things back the way they had been. Back when they'd worked so well together, when they'd relied on each other, trusted each other. Back before things had got screwed up with the intro chapter and then a second damned sentinel coming in to make matters more complicated. Wasn't there any way they could get back to that place? 

Of course, if Sandburg became a cop, there was a good chance they could make it back there. Assuming everything went according to plan. 

And perhaps an apology would never be enough. Even as he'd said them, the words had echoed hollow and insincere. Was he honestly not sorry? Was he glad Sandburg had given up everything? 

Was he? 

Or was he perhaps just happy that Sandburg now had no reason to leave? 

Jim opened his eyes and sat up, rubbing his hand over his face, ignoring the cold sitting in the pit of his stomach. With a glance at the clock, he groaned and swung his legs out of bed. Grabbing a robe, he went downstairs for a coffee or something that could distract him for a while. Something that might catch his attention long enough to get him some sleep. 

He paused before he could get that far, however. Sandburg's door was open, the light on. The man himself was sitting at his desk, trash bag on the floor, almost full of stuff. On the desk before him were piles of paper. One by one he lifted up a sheet, scanned its contents and shoved it in the bag. 

'Hey, Chief?' 

Sandburg started, then looked up, almost guiltily. 'God, Jim you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing up?' 

Haggard blue eyes stared at him. The hair was pulled back, as though for punishment. Grey shadows peeked out of a face weary from lack of sleep and nightmares never left. 

No, Blair wasn't getting better with time. He was getting worse. 

'I couldn't sleep,' Jim offered after a moment. 'Thought I'd make some tea. Want some?' 

'Uh, yeah, okay. Thanks.' Blair stared at him a moment longer, then turned back to his task. 

Jim left him and put the kettle on, went to the bathroom then spent a minute gazing out at the night sky. 

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried, was it? He'd asked three or four times - any more than that and it would sound like nagging. But Blair was still hurting and for the life of him, Jim didn't know why. Sure, he could see the blown career thing. He could even see the fraud thing. He could appreciate the cop thing but really, that wasn't all there was to it, was there? 

The rain answered him. 

He turned from the window and went back to make the tea. He took both cups into Blair's room and set one down on the desk. 

'Thanks, man.' 

Jim paused a moment, before glancing down, trying to catch a few words on the discarded papers. His feet were cold on the floor, but the heat of buried anger dwelling inside his friend warmed him and scared him at the same time. 

'What are you doing?' 

'Nothing.' 

'That's a lot of nothing.' 

'Yeah,' Blair lifted his gaze enough to take in the bag. 'It is, isn't it?' His voice was soft, almost sleepy, almost dazed, as though he himself, was surprised there was so much. 

'You getting rid of all this?' 

'Yep.' Blair flicked a glance up at Jim then bent to his work again. 

'What is it?' Jim kept his voice level and calm, allowing no inflection of panic or guilt to creep in. 

'I told you, nothing. Just stuff I don't need any more. Class outlines, course digests. Grading guidelines. Stuff from my office. It's just sitting here taking up space so I'm getting rid of it.' 

'At four in the morning?' 

Blair froze. His jaw shifted a little as his eyes did a dance across his desk. Abruptly, he moved, gathering up the remainder and dumping it en masse into the bag. Steady hands then pulled the bag together, tied it up and pushed it back against the wall. Without pausing, he turned away. 'Sorry. I won't make any more noise. You should be able to sleep now.' 

'Sleep?' Jim frowned. 'You think that's why I came down here? Because your _paper_ was keeping me awake?' 

'Well, my pen woke you up once.' 

'Oh, come on, Chief,' Jim groaned. 'That was a long time ago - and you know I was having trouble with my hearing then. Besides, it's raining. How could I hear one sheet of paper over the rain on the skylight?' 

Blair turned to the window, frowning slightly, staring at it like he'd never seen it before. 'It's raining?' 

'Has been for hours. Look,' 

'What?' 

Jim laid a hand on Blair's shoulder. 'Why don't you try to get some rest?' 

'No, it's fine, Jim, really. I can sleep in tomorrow. You go to bed. I'm sorry I kept you up.' 

Jim hissed in a breath. It was just the same as it had been every time he'd tried. Every time this pale shadow of his lively friend would brush him off with the same pat phrases, expecting him to believe, expecting him to be mollified. What the fuck was he supposed to do? 

He gritted his teeth, pressing the issue once more. One more useless effort bound to go awry. It was almost as if Blair was doing it deliberately, to make him suffer in return. 

But no, Blair had never been that immature, that cruel. He couldn't know the tension in the air between them was enough to disturb Jim's sleeping and waking hours. 

'Chief,' he began carefully. 'We need to talk.' 

'About?' Blair murmured without turning. He was staring at the window, his stance still and harsh. 

'You.' Jim replied simply. 

'What about me?' Blair almost whispered. 'I'm fine.' 

'Chief, I've known you for three years now and I know that this is not what you look like when you're fine so you can cut the crap okay?' 

'Jim?' 

'Yeah?' 

Blair turned his head a little, but his eyes were distant. 'Do me a favour?' 

'Sure.' 

'Go away.' 

Guilt was tapped into that single request like a power feed directly into a generator. Without examination, Jim understood every nuance in those two words, everything Blair was saying and not saying. 

He saw red. 'No.' 

Blair spun around, 'Look, Jim,' his voice was sharp now, almost cutting the air with each word. 'How many times do I have to tell you, I'll be fine if you just leave me alone. What am I? Some kind of pet that needs coddling?' 

'No, you're a friend in need.' 

'Oh, right! And that makes it okay for you to keep going on about it, does it? Jeez, Jim, I never made you talk when you didn't want to - so why am I getting this from you now? Has it ever occurred to you that it's none of your business?' 

'What isn't?' 

Blair's eyes widened. He spread his arms in a gesture of frustration. 'What do you want me to say?' 

'Just tell me what's going on.' Jim's voice came out harder than he intended - but it was too late to stop it. 

'God, how many times have we been over this? It doesn't matter, okay? Talking about it won't make it go away.' 

'It might make you feel better.' 

'How do you know that?' 

'That's what you always told me.' 

'Well, I was wrong, okay? Talking about this won't make me feel better, Jim. It'll make me feel worse so just leave me the hell alone!' 

Jim gazed on those wild eyes for a moment before folding his arms and shaking his head, 'No.' 

'Damnit, Jim!' Blair shook his head in disbelief. 'What the fuck is wrong with you?' 

'You. You're what's wrong with me.' Jim took a step forward. 'I can't stand seeing you like ...' 

'Like?' Blair almost lit up with that, his anger rushing to make his face flushed, his voice hard as steel. 'You don't like seeing me upset so I should just get it out of my system, is that it? Well, fuck you, Ellison!' 

Blair began to push past him but Jim grabbed his arm. In response, Blair whirled around and struck him with his fist. 

Stunned, Jim stumbled back, more from shock than the blow itself. Blair instantly shook out his hand, his own feet stumbling, his own eyes wide with surprise. 

Jim tried to make the most of the moment. 'Chief, it's okay, I know you didn't mean ...' 

'You don't know shit, Jim, so just leave it alone while you can. Fuck! I can't believe I did that.' 

This was getting ridiculous. Jim couldn't allow this to go on longer. 'Look, Sandburg, if you don't want to be a cop, just say so, okay?' 

'Oh, right!' Blair snapped, shaking his head again, almost talking to himself. 'Right, it all comes down to the world according to Ellison, doesn't it. Right, sorry, I forgot. Forgot what a selfish fucking bastard you can be when you want. Well, pardon me but I'm having a crisis of my own and I don't need your guilt bearing down on me as well, okay? Now will you just go to bed and leave me alone?' 

'I thought we were friends.' 

At that, Blair froze. Slowly, he turned a wide gaze on Jim, 'Yeah. We _were_. Back some time before you threw me out of here because of Alex, before you tried to suck her tongue out of her throat even though she'd just _murdered_ me. Some time before you stole my introduction chapter and read it despite my warning that you shouldn't and before you told me I was _overreacting_ to the fact that Brad Ventriss had _raped_ one of my students. Yeah, back in the good old days, Jim we _were_ friends. At least, I thought we were. Guess I didn't know the Ellison version of friendship, did I? Didn't really understand it. Didn't know that it involved not only the sacrifice of my life's work - but my life itself.' 

The words hit Jim harder than Blair's fist - but the look on Blair's face did more damage. Desperately, Jim felt behind him for the wall, hoping for support. 'I didn't ... I ... Chief, you don't know how I ...' 

Blair came close then, stealing up to breathe his fury directly into Jim's space. For long seconds, he just stood there trying to read something in Jim's eyes. Then he blinked. Once. 

'You really, honestly think,' he began in a whisper, 'that I want to be a cop? That I want to go around carrying a gun? That I want to be in the situation where one day I might have to take a life with it? You honestly believe I want to learn how to leave my humanity at the door? To learn how to repress stuff, how to screw up my relationships, to put everything else in my life on hold because of the fucking job? You really think I worked my whole life so I could do that? So I could turn my back on everything I believe in? And why would I, Jim? Why? Why, when I've seen what it's done to you? Seen how it's screwed you up so bad you'd rather wear down your teeth to nothing than say aloud what you're feeling. I haven't just spent the last three years helping you get a grip on your sentinel abilities - I've helped you hold yourself together. Well, who the fuck is going to do that for me, eh? You? You who has absolutely no idea what's wrong with me? Hyper senses and you don't know shit!' 

Blair stepped back then, as though he was afraid he would do more damage. 'Well, fuck you. I don't need this shit, you know? I don't even know who the fuck I am any more. I gave up ... I gave up everything ... I ... I ...' 

'Chief,' Jim pulled himself together a little, pushing through his shock at the depth of Blair's anger. But he was more determined now than ever. 'I never wanted that, you know. Never asked you to do that ...' 

'No. You just laid on the guilt trip, nice and heavy. Go, take the brass ring, Sandburg. Three million bucks. It's what you wanted all along.' Blair turned and paced around his room picking up things before slapping them back down again. 'No, man, you never asked me to trash my life for you. That was all my own idea. Shit,' he came to a halt, burying his face in his hands, shaking his head. For a moment, Jim could hear nothing but the hoarse breaths, the soft and plaintive anguish buried deep within them. Blair's voice changed then, emerging more gently, softer and yet haunted by a wash of deep regret. 'Oh, god, I never wanted to say any of this, Jim, 'cause it's not your fault, I know that, I know. It's my fault and you were right to be angry and anything I say is only going to make you feel more guilty. I just wish you'd leave it alone because you're only making it worse, okay?' 

Jim crossed the room, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders, putting his own pain behind him. 'I just don't want you feeling so bad.' 

'Well, I'm going to feel bad for a long time, Jim so you better get used to it.' Blair sniffed a little, lifting his head and pinning his gaze somewhere around Jim's throat. 'You know, this not trusting me is really starting to hurt. Are you sure you want me to be your partner?' 

Frowning, Jim shook his head, 'Of course I want to be your partner - but you don't want to be a cop.' 

'No. But I _will_ become one. You know I have to.' 

'Why? I told you I don't want you doing anything you're unhappy with.' 

Blair gave a snort of derisive laughter. 'It's got nothing to do with what I want. You need me there - so I'll be there. End of story.' 

'No, I...' 

'God!' Blair snapped his head back, pushing Jim's hands from his shoulders. 'Are you listening to me?' 

'I am! I'm listening - but you're not listening to me! I _don't_ want you to be a cop if you don't want it. Forget about the sentinel thing, okay? I'll live - but this is your _life_ we're talking about here!' 

Blair's eyes widened. 'How the hell, after everything we've just been through, can you stand there and tell me to forget about the sentinel thing?' Blair's face reflected his horror and disbelief. He hissed in a breath, his whole body bound up with tension and denial. 'What was the point of me giving up my career if I can't make you safe?' 

'You know that's not what I meant ...' 

'No? So ... what? You're going to just haul yourself out of your next zone?' 

'I've zoned what, three times since this all began. What kind of reasoning is that?' Jim was tired, his body was tired and his brain, well that was even more tired. This was bordering on too much. 

Actually, it had gone way past too much. 

'You only need to zone once to get killed, Jim,' Blair snapped. 

'And you honestly think that's the only reason you've been tagging along all this time?' 

Blair's eyes widened. For a second, he didn't even breathe. Then he nodded slowly, as though an almighty truth had just dawned on him, and for him it was the end of the world. 'Oh. So. You . . . er . . . don't need me, then.' His voice caught then but he turned away. His shoulders stiff and uncompromising, he grunted, 'Fine, you don't need me. Great. I'll find something else to do.' 

'I didn't say I didn't need you, Chief.' Jim ground out. 'I just don't want you throwing your whole life away for me...' 

'Too late,' Blair murmured. 'I already did that.' 

Jim swallowed the guilt down, but it rose again. 

'Twice.' 

'Chief ... Blair ... I ...' This was just so fucking hard. Finding words to combat the fear he felt every day, the woeful confusion in Blair's eyes. Why hadn't he been able to trust? Not just with the dissertation thing but before that, with Alex - and before even that? Sure, Blair had made mistakes - but hadn't _he_? 

'Chief... I'm ...' Jim paused as Blair turned to face him again, looking up with eyes full of hurt and the sight pushed the words back out of him, leaving only one behind. 'Sorry.' 

Instantly, the gaze hardened. 'Don't be. I told you, it's my own fault. I can't handle a guilt trip from you at the same time so just don't go there, okay? Forget it. I'll survive. So will you. Maybe if you're really lucky, your senses will go back to normal and then you'll get what you wanted all along, won't you?' 

Something in Jim snapped at that. He took a step forward, deliberately towering over the shorter man. 'God, what is it with you? I keep trying to make peace, you keep snapping back at me. Isn't there any way we can make this better? Can't you just put your anger aside for a minute?' 

'My anger?' Blair cried in disbelief. 'Are you joking?' 

Instantly, Jim regretted his words - but it was too late. Blair threw up his hands in disgust. 'Forget it, Jim, okay? Just forget it. I'm going. I can't deal with this any more. I can't stay here and pretend and I don't want to. Don't want to face the guys at the PD, don't want to face you, don't want to face _me_ \- so I'm going, okay? You don't need me - hell, _I_ don't need me so let's just cut the shit, right? Easier that way. Best thing, really. Just get out and let me pack. I just ... I just ....' And Blair began gulping in air as tears filled his eyes. He tried to turn away but Jim caught him and held his hands tightly, holding them up when Blair would have struck him. 

In response, Blair pulled hard, fighting Jim's grip. He twisted and shook with fury - but Jim held on. At the last minute, Blair relaxed - then ducked and pushed. Jim stumbled and began falling - but he didn't let go. He expected the hard ground to break his fall but instead, he landed on the bed, Blair tumbling on top of him, still fighting. Extending his grip, Jim wrapped his legs around Blair's, pulled his arms wide and simply held on until Blair gave up. 

It took less time than he'd expected. Blair fought one minute, then collapsed on him the next, his thudding heartbeat easily felt through his shirt. Jim closed his eyes in relief, saying nothing, giving them both time to calm down a little. He loosened his grip enough to let Blair be comfortable but not enough for the young man to get away. 

He lay there for long minutes, listening to Blair's breathing, to the rain, to the almost-silence. 

Blair was wrong - this wasn't his fault - it was Jim's. His own inability to control his fear, his anger, his belief that he would be betrayed - all of this was his own fault. God, he was nearly forty - hadn't he settled enough within himself to avoid lashing out at the one person who deserved so much more? Did he have to keep hurting others so he wouldn't get hurt himself? 

Slowly, easily, he released Blair's hands and instead, brought his arms around the smaller man. Blair didn't move more than shift better into Jim's embrace. 

'You were right, you know?' Jim began softly, smoothing down the flannel shirt on Blair's back, feeling the soft cotton above strong muscles. 'I do have a problem with fear-based responses. And I don't even have an excuse for it any more.' 

'I shouldn't have taken it out on you,' Blair murmured into Jim's robe. 

'That's what I was about to say.' Jim listened to the rain for a moment longer, then said, 'I do need you, you know? And not just because of the sentinel thing, okay?' 

'Okay.' 

'Simon, you know, he worked real hard but it took a long time before he really believed in me. You did from the first day. You always have. That means a lot to me.' 

'Yeah,' Blair breathed out. 

And in the silence of the rain, Jim murmured, 'Chief, I ... I had no idea you'd do that, you know? I ... I never thought of it, never expected it. I just thought the secret was out and that was it. It never occurred to me that you'd throw away everything you've ever worked for. I hope ... I hope that if you'd warned me, I would've had the courage to stop you. But I ... I can't be honest and say so for sure and that bothers me. That I'd let you do it and not feel ...' 

'I had to do it, Jim. You know that. I'm not sorry I did.' 

'I am.' 

'No, you're not. You're just sorry I hit you.' 

'That too.' Jim tried to make his face smile, but it wouldn't work. There was still too much pain inside, too much guilt, too much of Blair's weight on him to make it feel so light. 

It was unlikely Jim would ever forget that voice, the small hitch in the tone when Blair had uttered those fateful words ... 

' ... my thesis, The Sentinel .. is .. is a fraud.' 

And the apology at the end. Sorry for the harm it has done to loved ones. 

Sorry? For lying to protect Jim? For destroying himself to save his friend? 

Why? Had there been no other option? Really? 

'Chief?' 

'Yeah?' 

'Why didn't you tell me you were going to do it?' 

'You weren't listening to me.' 

'Is that it?' 

'No, not really. But I guess ... I guess I knew you'd try to talk me out of it and it was really the only way out.' 

'But ...' Jim paused, holding his breath a moment, feeling the moment fill him and hold him as he trod closer to a precipice he hadn't even seen before now. 'But why do it in the first place?' 

Blair's answer came out tired and weary, 'You know why.' 

Jim blinked in the early morning darkness. No, actually. He wasn't sure any more. He wasn't sure of anything. So he asked again. 'Tell me.' 

'To protect you.' 

'That's all?' 

'Isn't that enough?' 

A flash of wind whipped up then, spiking rain against the window. Jim shook his head, 'No.' 

Blair was silent for a long time but Jim could tell the young man hadn't fallen asleep. But he didn't say anything, didn't prod and poke and push. He just waited. 

Eventually, Blair lifted his head from Jim's chest, twisting his body until he could look down on Jim. There was something in his eyes then, those tired eyes worn out from too little sleep and too little peace. Something Jim couldn't define but something he couldn't ignore. 

Sighing softly, Blair shook his head. 'You really don't know, do you?' The gaze narrowed, as though he weren't expecting an answer. 'Can't say I'm surprised. You've missed bigger things before now. I just wish I didn't have to explain it.' 

'I need to know, Blair,' Jim murmured, unable to promise even to himself that it was really true. 

'I know you do.' Blair nodded to himself, pulled in his bottom lip then said, 'I just want to apologize first, okay?' 

'What for?' 

'This.' With that, Blair lowered his head and in one brief moment, pressed their lips together in a kiss that turned Jim's world upside down. 

His whole body jolted with the shock - but he remained where he was, stretched out on the bed beneath Blair, eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest. 

Blair was watching him, probably waiting for some reaction but how in fucking hell could anyone react to something like that and what the hell was going on here? 

In the pause between thoughts, Blair moved again. This time the kiss was slower, more deliberate, moist and warm. A flick of tongue and Jim's lips opened of their own accord and whether he wanted to or not, he caught the flavor of Blair. Pure and undiluted. Essence of Sandburg. Powerful and heady. 

On automatic pilot, his senses began to catalogue and identify, reporting in to him of findings he couldn't begin to understand. The weight and feel of a warm body upon his. The friction of gentle movement across his skin. The scent pouring over him. The sight of his best friend leaning so close, too close for him to see properly. 

And taste. Pure Blair. Gentle Blair. 

His mouth worked gently upon Jim's. Slowly, so as not to frighten. Like his senses, Jim's mouth responded without need of instruction, opening, tasting, kissing a little in return, spinning wild tales into Jim's mind without thought of order and necessity. 

And then the last report slotted into place. Blair Sandburg was kissing him. Blair. 

A man. 

Jim stiffened, a second wave of shock breaking his daze, forcing his mouth back away from Blair's. Instinct alone stopped his reaction from turning to violence. Instinct and a strong, almost genetic desire to do anything but hurt his guide. 

Was that what this was? His guide leading them to some new place? Was that what was next? Was this the payback for Blair trashing his career? Was this the price Jim had to pay for keeping Blair with him? 

Rigid and solid, Jim nevertheless was very careful in the way he lifted Blair from him, in the way he sat them both up, in the way he got to his feet. Motor responses were working - just - but beyond that, he was somewhat helpless. 

'Jim ... I ...' 

'Chief?' 

'What?' 

Jim kept his back to the other man, flexing his hands, not wanting to do damage but something deep inside him needed to crush something. 'Do us both a favour and just keep quiet for a minute, okay? Just one minute. Just give me that much, okay?' 

He could almost feel Blair's anxiety radiating from the bed. 'Okay, Jim.' 

So he stood there, still rigid, still needing to hit something, but he contained it, kept it close until it began to ease a little, until he was sure he could allow himself to move without being in danger of hitting the other man. 

Man. 

He pulled in a breath, nodded slightly. 'I'm going to make some more tea, okay?' 

'Okay.' 

Jim finally got his legs to move, forcing them to take him out into the kitchen. Like a robot, he put the kettle back on, pulled fresh mugs down, filled the pot, drew milk out of the fridge and still his neurons refused to fire properly. 

Then the kettle was done and he made the tea but when he turned around, Blair wasn't in his room but rather, sitting on the couch, in the semi-darkness, a cushion on his lap, arms wrapped around it. His gaze stuck firmly on the floor as though he were terrified of letting it drift towards Jim. 

He looked so small. So vulnerable. And he was. Very vulnerable. Jim had no desire whatsoever to cause any more hurt. There'd been enough of that for one lifetime let alone two. 

And somehow, the sight of Blair sitting there, resolutely away from his bed and all that implied, was enough to ease the rest of the tension from Jim, ease it away to where it could do no harm. 

He picked up the mugs and went to Blair. He sat down carefully on the coffee table, his tea between his hands, his gaze somewhere around Blair's folded up knees. He let the silence open a path between them, one he could follow. 

'You want to tell me about it, Chief?' 

'Nothing to tell, really,' Blair's light tone belied the white grip of his knuckles on his mug. 'I'm in love with you.' 

'When did this happen?' 

'Dunno. Some time, I guess.' 

'I didn't know you were ...' 

'No.' 

'Blair, I can't ... I'm not...' 

'I know, Jim, I know. Why do you think I didn't say anything?' 

A little relief soaked into Jim then, vanquishing the unjust thoughts his shock had produced. 'So, it's been a while, then?' 

'Yeah. A while.' 

The silence stretched out again as finally, the wind died down and the rain fell to a soft patter on the skylight above. It seemed like days since Jim had climbed out of bed with another dose of insomnia - and yet, it had only been an hour. The sun would make moves towards rising soon and he knew, just knew without even thinking about it, that he was in no way ready for what the daylight might show him. 

His gaze rose, lightly casting over Blair's huddled and protective body until it reached his face. Eyes, distant and dark, failed to blink at all. On instinct alone, Jim reached out a hand and touched Blair's knee, his voice soft and gentle in the early morning. 'I'm sorry. I wish I could feel ...' 

Blair blinked once and a single tear fell on his cheek. His mouth pursed as though fighting further tears but then his hand came up and angrily brushed the evidence away. 'Yeah, well, I wish you could, too, you know?' Blair's voice was haggard, raw - but the anger was directed only at himself this time. 'Like I said, talking about it only makes it worse.' 

'I guess I should have listened, right?' 

'Right.' Blair closed his eyes and rested his head back against the couch. 'You have no idea how many times I came close to telling you. But there never seemed to be the right moment and let's face it, these last few months have been anything but easy. And there were some days when I thought you might guess, all on your own. And some days when I even thought ...' 

'What?' 

'That you might ... well ...' Blair shook his head slightly and opened his eyes again. He took a mouthful of tea then finally met Jim's gaze. 'So, what do you want to do?' 

'Do?' Do? What kind of question was that? 

'I'll move out if you want. I don't want you watching everything I do just in case . . .' 

'I don't want you to move out.' 

'No?' 

'No.' 

'Still think you want me as your partner?' 

Shit. 'Yes,' Jim nodded twice, emphatic, 'I do.' 

'Sure?' Blair shrugged, 'I mean, this isn't going to go away on it's own. Though, I promise you, I won't make a move on you. A man can only take so much rigid rejection in one life, you know?' 

The edge of frail bitterness reeked through Blair's tone - but there was no real retribution there. Again it was all directed inwards. 

Not for the first time, Blair's pain shot into Jim, like an arrow finding its perfect target. 'I trust you, Chief.' 

'No you don't,' Blair murmured, his gaze open and easily read now. 'But you should.' 

'Then,' Jim lifted his chin and met that honest look with all that he had, 'I will.' 

Something clicked then, inside Blair - because the eyes lost their hardness. Instead, there was almost a smile there, as though it were waiting for an excuse to peek through. 'I'll go to the Academy, okay?' 

'Are you sure?' Jim frowned. 

'Yeah. I can't guarantee anything beyond that, but I'll give it a try. Who knows, it might not be as bad as I expect. I might even like it.' 

'You might.' Jim drained his tea and placed his mug down on the table. Taking a chance, he gathered one of Blair's hands in his own, brushing the backs of his long fingers with his thumb. 'I want you to promise me though, that if you don't like it, if it isn't what you want, that you'll tell me, okay? I ... I owe you that much. I don't want you sacrificing anything more for me especially when I can't give you much in return. Not even a dissertation subject. So, will you promise me that much?' 

He looked up to find Blair's eyes on him, that faint smile somewhat stronger now. The hand in his gripped tight. 'Sure, Jim. I promise to tell you.' 

'Okay.' With that, Jim took the mug out of Blair's hands and hauled the man to his feet. Without pausing, he wrapped his arms around him and gave him the hug he'd never given before, no matter how much he'd wanted to. Rules and regulations of society forbade much of this but touch had always been so important to Jim - and perhaps at this moment, even more important to Blair. If he could do nothing else, he could impress upon Blair how important this was to Jim to work, how important Blair was to him. 

And perhaps Blair did understand because he squeezed Jim tight a moment, then pulled back. The bravest face he'd ever seen gazed steadily up at him. 'It'll be fine, Jim, I promise.' 

'Yeah,' Jim nodded. 'Feel like some breakfast?' 

Blair's eyes flickered over to the kitchen and almost on cue, his stomach rumbled. 'I think so. I might grab a shower first though.' 

'I'll have it ready by the time you get out.' 

With a nod, Blair let him go and wandered towards the bathroom. He paused with his hand on the door, as though he would say something else - but then he disappeared inside and soon all Jim could hear was the spray of water hitting the tiles. 

* * *

Jim could hear Sandburg rummaging in his room, rushing to get ready, cursing about students who were late for class. When the phone rang a second time, Jim swore, kicked the fridge door shut with his foot, picked the pan off the stove and walked to the table to pickup the handset. 

And of course, it was a wrong number. He unceremoniously dumped it down, held the pan over his plate and scraped eggs onto now-cold toast. He grabbed his coffee, picked up a fork and began eating even before he returned to the table. With his eye on the clock, he raised his voice. 'Chief, if you don't get out of here now, you're going to be late again.' 

'I know, I know but I just ...' Fierce rummaging in the small bedroom followed this but then suddenly Blair appeared, hair tied back, dressed and apparently completely ready for his third week at the Academy. 'My self-defense instructor leant me this book on Tai Chi and now I can't find it. I said I'd give it back to him today. Have you seen it?' 

Jim immediately rose and turned to search the living room. He ran his hands between couch cushions until he felt something hard and flat. With a grin, he pulled it out and passed it to Blair. 

'Thanks, man!' Hardly pausing, Blair was already turning for the door. 'See you tonight!' 

'I'll probably be late.' Jim called as the door crashed shut - and then smiled a little as a yelled apology reached him. Shaking his head, he returned to his breakfast. Scooping down the eggs as quickly as possible, he put his plate in the sink, drained his coffee and grabbed his jacket. 

The day was cold, not unusual for March - but at least, for once, it wasn't raining. He drove to the station with his windows down and radio on, whistling as he went. 

Had Blair got in on time? Only five days into the course, he'd already managed to earn the ire of more than one instructor. But still, subtle enquiries by Simon had produced guarded but positive comments. Sandburg wasn't the darling of the establishment - but he was holding his own. So far. 

And so far he seemed to be enjoying it, for what it was worth. He was doing the reading, getting his study finished on time like the consummate student he was - and even found time to ask Jim for clarification on certain points of law. Still, a lot of it was old hat, for Blair. He'd long since memorized the codes for crimes, understood the difference between a capital offence and a misdemeanor. He had all the people skills required when dealing with the public and knew far more than any new recruit about the techniques of interrogation and evidence gathering. Not only that, but over the years, Jim had coached him on things like self-defense and for the last year, Blair had been doing his own time at the gym. 

So far, it seemed to be going okay - but so far, Blair hadn't started weapons training - and Jim knew that was going to be the sticking point. Not handling a gun per se, nor even firing it. Blair had done that before. He knew how to hold a weapon safely, knew how to aim without breaking his shoulder, knew not to close his eyes when he pulled the trigger. In fact, the weapons training itself probably wasn't going to cause more than a faint ripple. The trouble would start with the accompanying training of when, how and where to fire a weapon in the line of duty. The ever-increasing classes in the politics and morality of shooting to kill or to maim. Ten years ago, such a topic had never been so much as discussed within the halls of the Academy. These days, with mandatory counseling following any fatal shooting, the powers that be were doing all they could to cut some problems off at the pass. 

It was another week away. Another week when things would be okay - and that wasn't such a bad thing. They needed the time - and more to the point, they were using it. The last month had been good. Very good, in fact. While they didn't spend the same amount of time at work together, they did spend more off-time out doing things they both enjoyed. They went to games and they went camping and they went to the races and they had even been bowling once, at Simon's insistence. 

And each day, as each hour crept by, Jim could see the changes in Blair. A lot of the weight, the draining responsibility had subsided. When they could get away with it, Blair still rode with Jim - but not if there was any chance of it being discovered. It was enough though, for the moment. Enough for both of them. Enough to remind them why they were doing it in the first place. 

Quietly and steadily, they seemed to be putting the past behind them. One day at a time. It wasn't easy - and he knew Blair still suffered some sleepless nights. There were still times when he was quiet for too long and the old, irrepressible energy seemed forced - but it was better than it had been and Jim could only hope it would keep going. 

Of the other matter, they didn't speak at all. Not a word. Truth was, there was no point. They'd already both said all they could say. 

That didn't mean Jim didn't still feel the pangs of guilt and regret. Not just for what he'd done but for what he couldn't do, for the old and ancient things he'd never said. Not to mention the fact that he'd lied. 

He _didn't_ wish he could feel that way about Blair. Not at all. 

Or at least ... he _hadn't_. Now, he was far too relieved to really think about it too deeply. And since Blair appeared to be getting his feet back, there was no need, was there? 

Turning the radio off, he pulled into the station garage and parked. Before he could get out, however, his cell phone rang and he flipped it open. 

'Ellison.' 

'Jim? Where are you?' Simon's voice held and edge of urgency to it. 

'Downstairs. I was just on my way up. Why?' 

'You better get over to the Academy. There's been some trouble.' 

* * *

Jim didn't need sentinel hearing to catch the shouts as he strode through the building. A voice he didn't recognize - and Blair. One attempting to soothe, the other simply insistent. 

'Damnit, I'm okay! Just leave it!' 

Hurrying, Jim turned a corner and stopped by the First Aid room. He knocked once then pushed the door open. Blair was sitting on an examination table, another man standing before him. The moment Jim entered, Blair turned, his eyes widening with anger. Immediately, he jumped down from the table and pushed past Jim, storming out into the hall. 

'What happened?' Jim asked the medic. 

The man shrugged, turning to put his bandages away. 'There was an argument. Some punches were thrown. I don't know - I wasn't there.' 

'Is he okay?' 

'I don't know - he wouldn't let me touch him.' 

'What about the other guy?' 

'Fine. A black eye, nothing more. He's been sent home. They're both up on report for what it's worth.' 

'Right, thanks.' Swiftly, Jim headed back outside, hoping to catch Blair. He dashed across the car park just as the Volvo door slammed shut. 'Chief, wait!' 

'Man, I do not need this, okay?' Blair yelled back at him. 'Just leave me alone!' 

The car engine roared into life and in a cloud of oil smoke, Blair drove away. 

* * *

Jim found him at home. Pacing. 

Having called Simon, he now had some hours off - and he was going to use them, for better or worse. 

'Okay, Sandburg, what the hell is going on?' 

Blair stopped his stride, looked up once, then made to head to his room. Jim didn't let him get that far. Instead, he grabbed the young man's arm and pulled him to a halt. With the other hand, he tilted the face up to him, ignoring the look of hatred that flashed into those eyes, instead, taking in the details of bruises and cuts. 

'Where else did he hit you?' 

'Leave it alone, Jim.' There was enough warning in Blair's voice to send a ripple of fear through him. 

'Sit down.' Firmly, he pushed Blair into a chair and left only long enough to grab the first aid kit. He dumped it on the table and began cleaning out the cuts. His own voice full of warning, he said again, 'Where else did he hit you?' 

'He kicked my ass, Jim. Wanna kiss it better?' 

For a second, Jim's hand flinched, so close to slapping that beautiful face. Instead, he clenched his jaw, finished the cleaning and hauled Blair to his feet. Unceremoniously, he pulled the man's shirt up, revealing two large welts on each side of his ribs. Even as he reached out to check them, Blair flinched away. 

Jim snapped. 'Stop it, okay? Just let me see if there's anything broken and I'll leave you alone. Christ, do you have to be such a baby about this?' 

'Only if you insist on treating me like a child!' 

'Stop acting like one and I will.' Not giving Blair the chance to argue again, he took hold of him with a hand on his shoulder, leaving his other hand free to press against tender ribs. The welts were big and would bruise with spectacular color before the day was out - but there were no breaks, not even a few cracks and for that at least, he was grateful. Not pausing, he turned Blair around and checked his back but it was clear. He dropped the shirt and put the first aid kit away. Blair was tucked up on the couch by the time he returned. 

Not bothering with words, Jim just made some coffee. He remained in the kitchen while it brewed, leaving only when he had two mugs ready for drinking. 

Once more he took up a seat on the coffee table. It was just easier; he could see Blair's face properly, see enough to try and read what the hell was going on. 

Blair ignored the mug he held out and instead, curled up on his side, holding his arms against his bruised ribs. 

'Come on, Chief. I can't help you if you won't talk to me.' 

'What makes you think I want your help?' The voice was tired, worn as though by a hundred years of gale force winds. All the heat was gone. 

'What happened?' 

'How the hell can I go back there now? One little slip and they send for daddy. I'm supposed to be standing on my own two feet and you just rush in, don't you? How can I earn any respect under those conditions?' 

Jim frowned, taken aback by those soft-spoken words. 'Simon called me. He ...' 

'Great. Two Daddies. Even better.' 

Jim had no answer for that. If Blair chose to see the concern of friends in that manner, there was nothing Jim could say to change his mind. Gentling his tone, he said again, 'What happened?' 

'I got into a fight.' 

'I can see that. What about?' 

'Nothing.' Blair rolled over onto his back. He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up, bending his knees to ease the discomfort in his chest. 'He said some things, I made him apologize.' 

'By giving him a black eye?' 

'He swung first.' 

'Any witnesses?' 

'Plenty. The whole class. I won't get kicked out, if that's what's worrying you.' 

'Jesus, Chief,' Jim sighed, leaning back on his hands. 'Can we get off this adversarial tangent for a minute? I thought we'd covered all that. Can't you just talk to me? Help me understand what's going on with you?' 

Blair closed his eyes at that, breathing as deeply as his injuries would allow. 'Okay, okay. I'm sorry.' 

'Don't apologize, Chief. It's okay. Just tell me what he said.' 

For a minute, he wasn't sure he was going to get a response. Then, hitching in a short breath, Blair replied, 'He called you a faggot.' 

Jim blinked, freezing in his place. 'Pardon?' 

'You heard me.' 

Stunned, Jim could hardly think, let alone react. Then when he did, his reaction surprised him. He laughed. 

'It's not funny,' Blair grumped. 

'Actually, it is.' Jim sobered the laugh a little as best he could. 'Tell me what happened. All of it.' 

'We were just finishing up self-defense. I was in the changing room and this guy, Keeler was joking with the others. I didn't pay too much attention until he prodded my arm. Then he said, "Hey Sandburg, you really think you'll be good enough to work with that boyfriend of yours?"' 

'And what did you say?' 

'Nothing.' 

'Come on, out with it.' 

'I ... I told him to fuck off.' 

'Okay. Then what?' 

'He got really close and sneered, "You think we don't know what goes on between you and that faggot Ellison? You must love bending over for him. You'll never be a real cop, ever!".' 

Jim just waited. 

'And then I said that's okay because ... because he'll never be a real man.' 

Jim had to work hard to control his smile. 'And then he hit you?' 

'Yeah. Don't worry, it wasn't much of a fight. The other guys dragged him off me before he could do much damage.' 

'He ended up with a black eye.' 

'Yeah.' 

'Chief...' 

'Jim?' Blair turned his head and looked at Jim for the first time. 'I don't need a lecture on how to behave in the school ground, okay? It's my own fault, I know that. I should have kept my mouth shut. I know better than to taunt a bully, don't I? I know it's not like me to do something like that. So it's my own fault, I get that. Right now I just want to forget about it.' 

Jim nodded slowly. 'Sure. Only - why did him calling me a faggot bother you so much?' 

'Doesn't it bother you?' 

Jim managed a shrug, 'No. Not really. I've been called worse.' The look of pain that flashed across Blair's face made him pause. 'Shit, I'm sorry, Blair. I didn't mean it that way.' 

'No.' Blair's expression closed up. 'Of course not. Forget it, Jim. I know you're trying to be supportive and everything and I know you don't think I'm a piece of shit because I'm bi, but really, you don't know anything about it so I think it would just be a good idea if you dropped it before we both regret it, okay?' 

'I am sorry.' 

'I know.' But he didn't look as though he did. Instead, he was staring at the ceiling, clearly wishing Jim would just leave him alone. 

'Well, if you're okay, I'll get back to work.' 

'I'm fine.' 

'Okay then.' And Jim had no choice but to get up and leave. 

* * *

As the door closed behind Jim, Blair shut his eyes again. The pain was horrible but he couldn't afford to give in to it. He could only endure it for as long as it lasted and perhaps one day - one day when it no longer mattered - it would go away. Maybe one day, when Jim looked at him like that, with so much care and affection, it wouldn't cause more damage than healing. 

It wouldn't have been so bad if Jim hadn't been so damned understanding. Wouldn't have hurt so much if they weren't living together - or planning to go back to working together. But a wall had grown up between them now that Jim knew the truth. Perhaps too subtle a wall, because it seemed Jim had no idea it existed. 

He shouldn't have said anything. He should have kept the secret. Jim would have relaxed then. Would have kept working and believing that everything was going to be fine, that everything was going to be just like the good old days. Now, they just kept working and hoping instead. Not the same thing at all. And for every step he seemed to take forward, he took another two sliding back. 

But at least Jim did seem to trust him. There'd been no sudden change in the way Jim touched him. There were still the friendly nudges and the playful swats. Jim stood as close to him as he always had. In fact, there was almost nothing about Jim's physical language that had changed at all. But it was all so .... determined. So deliberate. As though Jim was trying to prove to Blair that it didn't matter to him, that he did indeed trust Blair not to make a move they would both regret. 

As if he would. These days he didn't even allow himself to dream about Jim, and any thoughts he'd ever had of fantasizing about Jim had been banished from his imagination. 

Jim was trying though - which was a lot more than most other people were doing. Only Simon and Megan had made any real effort since the big blow up. Megan made a point of calling every single week, just to say hi - her reminder that she knew that Blair wasn't a fraud, that Blair had real friends who knew. Simon had been good as well with little bits of advice about the Academy, simple words here and there that made all the difference. 

Then of course, there was poor confused Joel. The man who, deep in his heart, couldn't possibly believe something so bad of Blair and yet, with the facts he had in his hand, had no choice but to believe. But with Joel it was different - because with him not only came acceptance of guilt - but forgiveness. To Joel, it didn't really matter what had happened. Not on a personal basis. 

Rafe and H? Well, they didn't seem to take too much of it seriously enough to wonder if it was all a lie or not. Their behavior towards him hadn't changed at all. 

It was everybody else that had changed. Nobody from Rainier would talk to him any more, and if he saw somebody in the street, they'd cross the road to avoid even walking by him. He'd made phone calls to people, to try and give back some of the things he'd borrowed, and get back some of those he'd loaned out - but messages got lost, calls were never returned and when he went in person to deliver something, he had to leave it without speaking to anyone. 

And last week, late on Wednesday night, he'd found out that one of his closest friends at Rainier had just been delivered of a healthy baby boy. Hoping it wasn't too unwelcome, he'd sent flowers - only to receive a phone call the next day from the woman's husband - who was also a lecturer - telling him in no uncertain terms that he was no longer welcome and that his flowers had been destroyed before they'd been delivered into his friend's room. 

Blair, scrambling to find the part of himself that had always been able to cool any dark situation, had mumbled words about how it was cool, and that he understood and that he'd just wanted to offer his congratulations since he knew how long it had taken them to get pregnant - but the response had been even more anger. And then the phone had been slammed down in his ear. 

And he was no longer welcome when he walked through the PD doors. No smiles greeted him, no waves hello - nothing. The moment people recognized him, their gazes slid away. Getting his detective's badge wasn't going to change that. Nor was any action on either Jim or Simon's part. Jim could scowl and threaten all he liked but the case was open and shut. Blair was a fraud and he was going to wear that for the rest of his life. 

And he _was_ a fraud. Right down to the bone. There was hardly a breath he took now days that didn't smack of some lie or other. It was getting too easy to cover his tracks. Too simple a thing to bury the ache inside beneath ever more layers. It was the only way he could do it and live. The only way he could live with himself. 

He would become a cop - and a good one - and he would prove to all of them that he'd been a good cop all along, before he ever got the badge. 

And he would simply learn to live with the isolation and the loneliness. This was his life now. He had no choice. 

Neither of them did. They never had. 

End Part 1 

* * *

* * *

End Without Fear 1 by Scala: scala8925@yahoo.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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